Time Travel and Telepathy, what could possibly go wrong?
by DaLaRi123
Summary: The TARDIS has been bound to her Doctor for as long as she can remember. He's wonderful, but talking to one person for almost a millennium can get a bit lonely. That's why, when a human comes along and pokes her mind, the can't help but poke back. But, instead of the naive girl she's expecting, she meets a young woman with secrets of time and space buried in the back of her mind.


Chapter 1- Introductions

I met the doctor in London in November 2017.

I had left home two months before, and I was utterly miserable. My flatmate was okay, but I didn't see her much. I had no close friends from Uni; I was always "The Weird American." London was beautiful when the sun shone or it actually rained, but the entirety of my stay so far, I had been doused in freezing drizzle. The bleak oppressive atmosphere did nothing to appease my boredom. Uni was dull, I knew most of the material, and my assignments were hardly ever challenging. I was polite to everyone, but at night, I would go home and scream into my pillow. My little sister called me on the weekends, and my parents every month. However, I could practically _feel_ us growing apart. If I did end up majoring in English Lit, I would stay in London my entire life, share a flat, marry a tax accountant or something, and live a lovely, monochromatic existence. I could see it stretching out in front of me, a dull, easy, picket-fence life, and it made me want to scream. I yearned for mental stimulus, for the tiny jolt of adrenaline which happens when a challenge presents itself. Most of all, I wanted to feel important. I had spent my days trying not to blend into the crowd, but I could feel myself losing my grip on my individuality. What I did no longer mattered, and I hated it. I wanted to feel like I wasn't just one of six billion.

I only noticed the TARDIS because of a research paper I was doing for History. I was researching the Police of the 1960s, and had been wandering around, looking for inspiration for my cover page, which needed a recognizable image which pertained to the topic. I guess I walked by it the first time, since, being the distracted person I am, I took four right turns in a row, circling the block and returning to find a perfect blue Police Call Box standing discreetly in a side street against the wall. I reached for my camera, before realizing that I had left it in my flat in favor of my umbrella. I had sighed, preparing to turn away, when I realized that I had the strangest feeling. It was almost like the feeling of being watched, but less intrusive, more of a _thereness_ at the edge of my mind. I had started walking away, but turned back and walked over to the box. The thereness grew more defined, and started to flicker, the tiniest changes which I probably would have passed off as sleep deprivation if I hadn't noticed the scorch mark along the box's left side. I had stopped about a foot from the box, and hesitantly, I reached out a hand to place it on the door frame. The second I did, the presence, well, pushed! It bumped the inside of my head, and I'm not afraid to say that I got a little bit angry. I poked it, and i don't know if it was my inexperience with telepathy, or if I was just a lot angrier than I realized, I pushed past the mental barrier, which was almost like the skin of a bubble, and suddenly I could _see._ In hindsight, I feel terribly intrusive, but at the time, all I could see was the enormity of it, spheres and spires, and I felt as though all of London could fit in this blue box, buildings and all. Throughout my gawping, the presence, which now that the barrier was gone, identified itself, rather, herself as a TARDIS, and admonished me for being so rude. I apologized profusely, and I couldn't help but compliment her; I fear I may have overdone it a bit. After a while of gawping, the TARDIS had told me, in telepathic terms that I was never to speak of this to anyone.

Call me selfish, call me human, but the thought had never crossed my mind, and I didn't hesitate to share my sentiment. After some more gawping, I had realized that the TARDIS's thoughts, which I still had trouble blocking out, were comprised of circles within circles, and from what I could grasp, it was a language. Sensing my confusion, the TARDIS flooded my mind with information, with decades of Gallifreyan primary school flooding my brain, and to this day, I remain just a bit proud of how quickly I absorbed it.

Within the span of five minutes, I had more knowledge of the universe than I suppose, anyone else on the planet. I also had intimate knowledge of Gallifreyan etiquette, and once again, I apologized profusely for my massive breach of conduct. I sorted through the new information, trying to find a description of Gallifrey.

The TARDIS, sensing my search, pulled away from my mind, not completely, but enough to hide her emotions. However, as she had left, I had been flooded with, rage, fear, guilt, and an unbearable sadness, centered around an image of a breathtaking planet, with an orange sky, punctuated with yellow dust and auburn rocks. The center of the image had been of an enormous city, encased in a clear dome. I had also seen images of starships, of copper robots-

_Daleks,_ as I was harshly informed,

-which had invaded, battling them across time and space, and eventually leading the Doctor, who, the TARDIS had informed me, was in his tenth regeneration, another bit of primary school which had caught me by surprise, to trap them all in a time loop, in order to protect all of space and time. The Doctor blamed himself, and as such, so did the TARDIS. As I recollected all of what I had learned, I tried to send as much comfort as I could to the TARDIS.

Not blaming, not accusing, not offering false condolences, but rather, offering to help share the burden, in a moment of clarity (I recognized it as brilliance later), I offered up a single thought.

_If you hadn't left, there'd be no Time Lords at all._

The gratitude I received was unexpected and immense.

All this time, I had been standing by the TARDIS's camouflaged door (I'm still amused by the choice of concealment), with my hand on the panels along the front. When the TARDIS had pulled away, I had sensed another mind, but since the TARDIS had found nothing but comfort in the presence, I hadn't worried either. It was the Doctor, and through the TARDIS, we had formed a rudimentary telepathic link. All I could determine was location and a faint buzz of emotion, nothing like the clear stream of thought which I sensed through the TARDIS. I suppose it could be likened to the difference between a high-definition disk as compared to an old cassette. I resolved to try to explain when this was over. I assumed he'd return eventually, however, I was not prepared for what happened when he did.

When he returned to the TARDIS to find me standing there (apparently looking like I was mentally attacking her), the Doctor sent out a full on mental assault, and I pulled away from the door, clutching my head, as the Doctor raged upon my mind, tearing it apart in search of malicious intent. In the background of my mind, I could hear the TARDIS screaming, but my mind was the Doctor's anger, raging at me from both ends of our telepathic link. I was biting my lip to keep from screaming, knowing that if anyone found us, we'd all be carted off, the TARDIS included, and I refused to let that happen. As the Doctor tore apart all 19 years of my memory, I kept my mind's eye focused on the image of Gallifrey, the citadel glowing in the afternoon light. Even if I forgot my own name, I never wanted to lose that image. Finally, the Doctor had searched every memory, every second, and pulled away from my consciousness, leaving me in raw, aching solitude. I finally allowed my knees to buckle, falling to my knees on the hard asphalt, not bothering to keep my head from following. Through the link, all I could feel was guilt and shame. I pulled my hands from my temples, using them to prop myself up to look at him.

"S'okay," I had said, "I would have done the same."

Then I fainted.


End file.
